What You Can't Change
by theatrics
Summary: It was a parasitic relationship, with only so much time left to spare before she destroyed herself completely. Shelley-centric.


**Phew. Okay... this may come as a shock, but here is my story full-length story ever since _Otherwise_! ...And it's one that I actually intend on finishing, hopefully. With my girl's help, I can do it all. ;) This story is about Shelley, and only Shelley; and it's something that I've wanted to write for quite a long time now.**

**Also, of course, endless thanks to my baby for helping me and always inspiring me! I only write because of you. I love you!**

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Hairspray. Boo.

* * *

"Shelley Anne, you're going to be late," Her mother, Anne, called from one of the living room chairs, as Shelley stood unceremoniously before the downstairs' bathroom mirror. She was sixteen-years-old, and, however unfortunately, today was the first day of her junior year of high school.

As much as she would have liked to bare a sharp retort in the face of her mother, Shelley knew better, and merely shrugged her recurrent exclamations aside, for the time being. She already knew that she wasn't going to be late. Shelley merely assumed it was because her mother insisted she walked to school each morning, and thus had to leave much earlier than students typically would.

"Did you put on the dress that I laid out for you?" Anne wondered wryly, as Shelley rolled her eyes to the mirror. She was not three-years-old anymore; she did not need her mother to place her day's clothes on her bed in order for her to properly get dressed.

"What dress?" Shelley replied indifferently, as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, and at the deep violet, floral-pattern dress that she had chosen on her own.

"It was at the foot of your bed just last night, Shelley Anne."

Shelley could just see her mother rolling her eyes in annoyance now, and it caused a satisfied smirk to curl upon her rosy lips.

"I saw no dress," She remarked frankly, as she reached for her can of hairspray and promptly sprayed down a stray lock of her red hair. "Simply laundry that needs to be done." After her hair was set and styled for the day, she retrieved a single, sparkling, lavender barrette from the bathroom countertop, and then placed it delicately in her hair.

She heard her mother groan in irritation, but did nothing to console her. If anything, she furthered Anne's negative response with yet another pleased facial expression in the mirror.

"In that case," The elder woman ventured, as she suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorway, a folded magazine in hand—much to Shelley's obvious surprise. "it is laundry that _you_ will do once you return home from the show this afternoon, along with the rest of the laundry, as well."

Shelley's expression remained void of a response as Anne continued.

"Remember, dear, you learned everything that you know from me," Anne added tersely. "You're still learning."

"I have a session with Alexandra this afternoon," Shelley stated impassively, her pale eyes watching her reflection in the mirror as her fingertips precisely brushed over her hair.

"Then you will just have to make up for it by tacking on those hours missed to your next session," Her mother narrowed her eyes unrelentingly. "You will learn your place, however long it takes."

"That isn't possible," Shelley countered faintly, an evident issue of a challenge in her voice.

"Oh, but it is, my darling," Anne moved inside the bathroom slightly and eyed her daughter's reflection reproachfully in the mirror. "Honestly, I don't particularly care if you're there until three o'clock in the morning. You _will_ rehearse; and you will do as I tell you to, regardless of what it is, or when I say to do it."

Shelley did not respond. She simply began to gather her jewelry that she had laid out to wear that day, as Anne watched on with a censorious gaze. The small room was quiet, if only for a moment, while Shelley put on a golden bracelet and a petite, golden-chain necklace with a white-gold, diamond-shaped charm looped upon it. It was only then, did Anne sigh, once again, in frustration.

"That dress hardly flatters you," Anne chastised her, as she began toward the door, Shelley on her heels, her eyes narrowed both indignantly and thoughtfully. "That's precisely why I laid that other one out, the lavender one. At least that one doesn't make you look as," She paused, racking her brain for the word that she wished to use. "_bloated_."

Anne had decided that subtlety worked wonders with her daughter, when, in truth, it did just the opposite.

Shelley moved past her mother—who had since gone to answer the obnoxiously loud, ringing phone—and through the living to their kitchen, where she quickly snatched up a fresh, red apple. Clutching the apple gently in one of her hands, she glanced toward the kitchen's only clock. She had far too much time. Sighing, she stared at the apple for a moment, before carefully taking a bite. She knew that she would have to reapply her lipstick, but that was something that she just couldn't care about at this moment.

Her mother's brief stop in the living to answer the phone came to an abrupt end, when she inevitably ended up in the kitchen with her daughter. Shelley tried her hardest not to roll her eyes upon her arrival.

"Whether or not you will actually listen to me and change into that dress I instructed for you to put on or not, Shelley Anne, you _will_, in fact, change into it for the show this afternoon," Anne warned her threateningly, as she looked on as Shelley tended slowly to the apple. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Mother," Shelley concluded ultimately, her voice entirely dry. She knew that her mother would never give in or—better yet—_shut up_ until she finally submitted to her demands.

"Good, dear," Anne smiled pleasantly, out of virtually nowhere. "I'll have your father deliver it to the studio later this morning. Now," She paused and moved over to stand next to her daughter. "go on to school, and leave that nasty apple here." Anne commented, forcefully receiving the half-eaten piece of fruit from the redhead, who scarcely looked thrilled about it.

Shelley meandered past her mother once again, though not before glancing at her one last time out of the corners of her eyes. She gathered her books from their small coffee table, grasped her keys as she walked into corridor, and then head outside, the door slamming brusquely behind her.

* * *

It was two o'clock in the afternoon, the time for The Corny Collins Council members to board their bus that would take them to the studio—and Shelley could not be more thankful. High school students (more specifically, _the boys_) were the worst people that she had ever encountered in her life, and she was more than glad that the prolonged day was finally coming to somewhat of an end. Now she could get a bit of a release.

"We really should have hung out more over the summer break, Shelley," Tammy was speaking quietly to her, as the two walked side-by-side to the bus. Her eyes were bright and wide, and a smile was clinging effortlessly to the pretty brunette's soft facial features.

"Honestly, Tammy, I had such a dreadful schedule," Shelley replied with harnessed annoyance, as she thought of her mother's "summer training" approach.

"I understand," She said cheerfully, the smile still present and prominent as ever. "We still got to see each other a lot! I'm not complaining."

"Mm," Shelley muttered slightly, suddenly aware of the headache that was beginning to manifest right behind both of her eyes. Narrowing her eyes against the intruding sunlight, she paused at the bus stop with the others.

_Fuck_, she hated when the bus decided to lag and leave them here to awkwardly chat amongst themselves.

The girls were squealing with delight as they threw their arms around one another and hugged, saying how much they missed the other, despite all of the rehearsals that they had this summer.

"Shelley."

Shelley glanced up to see Amber standing a couple of feet away, Lou Ann, Becky, and the twins flanking her.

"Amber?" Shelley mimicked her spitefully, the back of her hand pressing against her own hip.

The blonde and she locked eyes for one moment before Amber averted her gaze to giggle amongst her tiny group of girls, who all chirped and snickered to one another. Shelley and Amber's clear rivalry had intensified over the past few months especially. Though, as to why, none of the other Council members, save Amber or Shelley, could really say.

Shelley remained unfazed as she narrowed her eyes against the blazing sun. She was beginning to grow more and more annoyed, and she had all but allowed herself to ignore Tammy, who was frowning slightly at her side.

Before Shelley could even remind herself that she did not feel up to asking why Tammy insisted on frowning every time that Amber and herself spoke in public, the bus pulled up, horribly shrill, squeaking brakes and all.

Each of the Council members climbed upon the bus, one after the other, and Shelley knew that it would be just like every other ride: loud, disturbing, and constantly unexpected. There had been some overtly frightening scenes that had occurred on this godforsaken bus, and Shelley would be the first to voice how unpleasant the ride there always seemed to be.

She sat with Tammy, whom she spoke with quietly, as the others chirped noisily around them.

The twins were giggling loudly as an obscenely moronic-looking Paulie boasted about how he could lift both of them with one arm. Brenda, however, was busy, as per usual, chatting up Fender and Brad respectively—whomever she found more appealing at any given second.

"So, can we expect another _accident_ this season, Brenda?" Bix snickered, his curious a little too obvious as he recalled Brenda's tragic "dress accident" this past May. It had gotten caught on Corny's podium (an incident that Corny appeared to take far too much interest in) and had ripped a fair amount, revealing Brenda's bare thighs to all of Baltimore.

Velma had had a cow, while the others could hardly believe that it had happened. Some were disturbed, and others' interests were strangely piqued. Shelley couldn't say that she fit in either category, however. Besides the aspect of essentially flashing the entire city, she couldn't see the significance of the ordeal.

Then she remembered that there were still ten boys on the council, virtually an all-male crew, and Corny, and she understood.

Brenda giggled charmingly, leaned back against the seat, and then crossed her legs.

"Hopefully not," She said, her voice reasonably suggestive. "If you're… _lucky_."

Quite a few of the boys howled, as the girls gasped and then giggled relentlessly. Brenda was arguably the biggest slut in Baltimore; and if it was not for that, then she could hardly rightfully say she possessed enough comedic chops for that sort of reaction.

"Or maybe we'll mix up the roll call, and I'll go first," Brad bragged, as he stood, only to be blown over by the bus driver's extremely abrupt stop. The bus erupted with laughter once again.

At this point, Shelley's head was absolutely pounding.

"You _would_ say that," Fender rolled his eyes, and then turned to give a wink to Tammy, who presently had her hands daintily curled in her lap. She blushed lightly and simply offered him a tiny smile in return.

"Or maybe we'll finally have that long-awaited chick-fight sequel," Bix continued, smirking, as he glanced around. Several of the guys whistled and hollered. "between Amber and Shelley."

Several of them voiced their approval, as Shelley raised her eyebrow challengingly in Bix's direction. Honestly, what a fucking moron. Moving her gaze away from their endless clamor, she glanced out the window, but then paused as she thought she saw something near her feet. Narrowing her eyes instantly, she scowled as she realized Paulie had slid beneath the seat where Tammy and she sat and was unsuccessfully trying to acquire a look up either of their dresses.

"Fuck off," Shelley hissed as she stamped her heel-clad foot onto his face, just hard enough to get her point across. Tammy screeched somewhat in surprise, and then more laughter occurred.

A chain reaction of high-fives broke out as Paulie returned to where the other boys were sitting.

Shelley wondered why it was necessary that she constantly be reminded why she despised boys as much as she did. They were so ridiculously immature that it absolutely blew her mind. She just did not understand how one, single person could be so juvenile. It was almost difficult to grasp—that is, until she realized just who she was dealing with.

She could only imagine how much longer it would take for a much more bold and idiotic boy to try to pull something before the bus arrived at the studio. Though, luckily for her and her throbbing head (and every other level-headed female on that bus), as the creaky bus pulled up to the front of the WYZT studio, the seats emptied quickly, if only because most of them feared a lecture from Velma von Tussle if they were not ready on time.

Tammy, Shelley, and Brenda all exited the bus together, with Brenda mouthing off about some boy (or man, for all they knew) who apparently stood her up. Tammy and Shelley listened vaguely as they all wandered inside and immediately parted ways to get ready.

Shelley walked slowly toward the clothing rack where they typically kept the Council's change of clothes, as well as various other articles of clothing. After thumbing through a couple of hideous dresses, she came across the lavender dress that her mother had thrown such a fit about earlier that day. Scooping it up by the hanger, she gingerly folded it over her arms, and then made her way toward the ladies' restroom.

It was empty, at the moment, as most of the Council Girls waited to catch until closer to their call time. Pushing one of the stall doors open, she sighed as she hung up the dress on the top of the stall door. She unzipped her dress in a single motion, shrugged it off her shoulders, and then allowed it to pool at her feet. Stepping out of it, she reached for the new dress, stepped into it, and then pulled it up on her slender frame. After zipping and buttoning the dress, she marveled at how tight it felt around her stomach, chest, and hips.

Shaking her head, she gathered her other dress, placed it on the hanger, and then walked out of the bathroom. She paused to study herself in the mirror, her eyebrows furrowed. Tracing her free hand's fingertips over her hip for a moment, she stopped immediately as she heard the door creak open.

It was Becky, of all people. Not even bothering to acknowledge her whatsoever, Shelley quickly shuffled out of the bathroom to place her other dress back on the clothing rack. She hung her dress up, and then moved over to where her dressing table was. Many of the girls were talking busily, while boys tended to their prehistoric desires by attempting to charm a few of them.

As soon as Shelley had arrived at her table, however, Tammy instantly sprang up and skipped over to her.

"Shelley! I was wondering where you went," She chirped sweetly, her eyes brimming with curiosity.

"I told you I had to change clothes," Shelley reminded her distractedly as she reached for a dark rose tube of lipstick, which she promptly opened and then gently spread upon her lips.

Tammy nodded, and then folded her hands at the small of her back.

"So, who's up for some totally boss action at the malt shop again tonight?" They heard Bix howl to the other, nearby Council members. Suddenly they were all abuzz with excitement.

"Tammy, are you goin' with us?" Fender called over, a certain, inexplicable spark in his eyes.

Shelley quirked an eyebrow at her friend, who turn a bright shade of pink almost straight away.

"I… well," Tammy glanced between the group of Council Kids, Shelley, and Fender. "I'll have to ask my Ma, but I don't see why not."

"So, I'll pick you up at six-thirty, then?" He went on to say, his eyebrows lowered.

"I—I mean," She stammered, her mouth suddenly dry. "Sure!" Tammy larked, her eyes bright. She had never been asked out before, and her enthusiasm was palpable in her voice.

Fender smirked to her, and then turned back to his group, where he then received a few claps on the back from a few of the boys. The others harped on and on about tonight's plans, all while Shelley continued to touch up her makeup.

"Shelley, did you hear that!" Tammy gushed, unable to believe it just yet.

"Yes," Shelley spoke evenly. "How positively… _charming_."

"Oh, gosh, Shelley… I've never been out on a date before," Tammy continued, her eyes wide. "What do I—"

"It's Fender."

"But, I have no idea what to—"

"Tammy, you will be fine," Shelley finished, as she applied a bit of mascara to her eyelashes.

"Are you going, Shelley?" Tammy wondered, after she slowly began to come down off her high. Though, Shelley could tell just how badly her friend wished to gush and ask questions.

"Of course not."

"But… why?"

"As much as I would love to say that I have an undeniable fetish for crashing parties that I wasn't invited to," Shelley paused, now finished with retouching her makeup, and then turned to face Tammy. "I have a few things to take care of."

"Oh," Tammy's face fell slightly. "Well, that's okay. I'll just—"

"Go and ask Amber for help."

"I—I don't have to," Tammy suddenly felt a twinge of remorse for her choice of words in the pit of her stomach.

"I honestly don't care what you do. Your business is just that: _yours_."

"I guess you're right," The brunette decided quietly, her eyes moving to the floor for a moment. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"You always do."

* * *

The rest of the day went by at a slug's pace, through her insufferable headache and all. Although, when, at last, they were all permitted to head home for the evening, each Council member gathered their things and rushed out, most of them eager to head off to the malt shop in just an hour, or so.

Shelley, too, collected her things, and began toward her home. She was actually content with the idea of returning home, if only because a nice bubble bath seemed to be beckoning and begging her insistently as she shamelessly entertained the thought. Her feet were aching, most likely swollen, and her head and stomach were killing her. She hadn't taken any aspirin, but she had determined that would change as soon as she got home.

Slowly taking on the front steps of her house, Shelley paused to retrieve her keys from her purse. She unlocked the door, and then quietly let herself inside. Regardless of how badly she wished to rush up to her bathroom and slowly climb into her bathtub, she knew that she had laundry to do, and little to no time to do it.

Without even letting her parents know that she was home (if they were even in the house to begin with), she locked the door behind her, and then began toward her room. Shelley stood in front of her vanity's mirror for a moment and stared into it as she unclasped her barrettes from her red hair. She vaguely heard footsteps down the hallway before her mother appeared in her doorway, a glass of red, Italian wine poised between a couple of her fingers.

"I hope you don't expect a free pass from doing that laundry that you got yourself into this morning, Shelley Anne," She ventured promptly, as she took a delicate sip from her glass. Shelley made some sort of irritated face to the mirror just as she began to smooth down her hair.

"I'm aware," Shelley offered her simply. She turned from her mirror, faced her mother for a very brief moment, and then moved past the door of her room and away from Anne.

"Good," Anne added in charmingly while her fingernails tapped lightly upon the glass of wine. She watched in silence as Shelley slowly walked in the direction of the stairs.

"Oh!" Her mother larked suddenly, her voice almost piercingly high in the wake of her realization. "By the way, sweetheart," Anne paused as Shelley halted for a moment and turned slightly.

"Just as I said it would, that dress certainly did you more justice than usual. You should really listen to your mother more often," She cooed, her eyes narrowed with the pleasure of her own supposed accomplishment. Shelley flashed a sarcastic smile of sorts, and then started toward the stairs once again, her hands forming tight fists at her sides. She rolled her eyes as she started the never-ending trudge down the steps.

Listening to her mother was what got her in all of this shit in the first place.


End file.
